


Fishing

by ryme_intrinseca



Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28980603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryme_intrinseca/pseuds/ryme_intrinseca
Summary: Cadfael gives Hugh lessons in piloting a coracle.
Relationships: Hugh Beringar/Brother Cadfael
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Fishing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



The racing waters of the Severn slowed once the great loop through the town had been navigated. The abbey vanished behind them, a bend in the river taking them eastwards past the water meadows.

Cadfael handed the oar to Hugh Beringar and made himself comfortable in the coracle. “Your turn, Hugh.”

The lord sheriff looked nervous, but determined.

This morning, Madog the boatman had fussed at the notion of Hugh learning to pilot the light craft. It was a skill hard-learned. Welshmen, it was said, had the knowledge in their blood. One could only imagine how long it would take a Norman to become proficient! 

But by offering to accompany Hugh, Cadfael had secured loan of the coracle. A flagon of ale, a light repast wrapped in cloth, and bait and tackle for fishing completed the makings of a pleasant outing. The day looked fair for it: a haze over the fields at dawn promised a hot afternoon.

Cadfael relaxed, but remained alert to Hugh’s efforts. He’d felt himself closely watched earlier, as he’d manoeuvred from the lee of Welsh Bridge to the swift-running centre of the river. The current had gathered them in its embrace, speeding their passage, and in demonstration Cadfael had mistimed his stroke to send the little vessel spinning.

“Make it stop!” Hugh had clutched at the sides, a smile flashing, dark hair whipped about. He’d still been laughing when Cadfael had brought the coracle under control and paddled them into calmer water, but he was no longer in a jesting mood now.

Concentration furrowed his brow as he steered the craft through the shining river. Realising that Cadfael was studying him, Hugh darted a quick smile. “It’s harder than it looks! I am impressed beyond measure at your skills, old friend.”

“There are craft such as these in the Holy Land,” Cadfael said, remembering green rivers cutting through a sun-bleached landscape. He looked up at the dappling light through the oaks and beech as they drifted and marvelled at the path his life had taken.

“Madog said a good spot for fishing was on the Haughmond bank.” Hugh turned them towards the pretty backwater. He balanced the paddle as he’d seen Cadfael do and rolled up his sleeves, ready to bait his line.

The coracle rocked from side to side, then was seized by a swift current.

Around they spun, and now it was Cadfael’s turn to laugh. Hugh cursed and fought against the rush of water carrying them onwards. The lessons all forgotten, he twisted sharply. The coracle dipped. Unseated, Hugh splashed into the shallows.

He surfaced with a shout, rueful and drenched. Green weeds streamed from his hair, and his linen shirt clung most enticingly to his narrow frame.

“Here.” Cadfael offered a brawny hand and hauled Hugh aboard. 

The sheriff grinned as he dripped silty water. “I’ve probably scared off the fish.”

“It matters not,” Cadfael said contentedly, drawing him closer for a river-chilled kiss, “for I have landed the prize catch.”


End file.
